


Stalwart and True

by ilovehowyouletmefall



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Catharsis, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-03
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 08:29:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovehowyouletmefall/pseuds/ilovehowyouletmefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When tragedy strikes, the First takes advantage of an opportunity to wreak havoc with the Scooby Gang. Can they pull through?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I really, really hated "Lies My Parents Told Me". This is my attempt to make it better. With death, yes. But hopefully the story is cathartic and ultimately uplifting.

_Does it ever get easy?_

_You mean, life?_

_Yeah. Does it get easy?_

_What do you want me to say?_

_Lie to me._

* * *

_I think you've taught me everything I need to know_

Giles stared at the door blankly.

_She can't… doesn't mean… I'll talk to her, make her see reason…_

He continued to stare, compulsively clenching and unclenching his left fist to keep the circulation in his arm going, as had become a habit for him since the Council was destroyed.

Anger began to well up inside of him. Anger at Buffy for being so bloody blind and pig-headed; thoughtlessly choosing Spike's counsel over his own. If the vampire were unlucky enough to have been there, Giles would have throttled him in an instant. The presumptuous, parasitic, evil blighter had stolen the last thing in Giles' life that had meant anything. Had usurped his place at the side of the Slayer – no, at the side of Buffy

How? How had Buffy been able to choose Spike over him, her Watcher, who had come to see her as a daughter? As the answer came to him, Giles slowly turned away from Buffy's door and walked pensively towards the stairs, filled with guilt and disgust and a steadily growing sense of loneliness. He had pushed her away.

But it had been for her own good, he hadn't meant to alienate her so. And then he forced her to choose. If he hadn't…

 _Well, this isn't the end,_ he thought desperately.  _She's angry with me now, but given a day or two she'll see, she needs me, as I need her. She must. Things can't stay like this between us. They can't._

By the time he reached the stairs Giles felt oddly out of breath. He was suddenly dizzy; the stairs seemed to loom before him. To steady himself he leaned against the wall, still clenching his fist compulsively. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt a painful tightening in his chest. He grimaced, struggling to breath through the pain. As he slid down the wall to the floor, the Summers' house faded from view…

x x x

Giles opened his eyes and saw that he was lying on the floor at the top of the stairs. The pain had subsided and he was still breathing. He got shakily to his feet and took a moment to regain his balance before slowly making his way down the stairs, stopping at the bottom to catch his breath.

"Giles! Are you alright?"

He glanced to his right to see Willow coming towards him from the living room, concern etched on her face. She was followed by Xander and Anya.

"Yes, I-I'm fine."

"What happened? Is Buffy –"

"Nothing's happened," Giles cut her off. "Buffy's fine. I'm simply not feeling very well."

"You look like hell."

"Yes, Anya, thank you for that observation."

"She's not wrong," said Xander, taking in Giles' unsteadiness and ashen face. "Look, you want us to drive you to the hospital?"

"That won't be necessary," Giles answered shortly as he began to walk towards the front door.

"At least let one of us drive you to the hotel," Xander persisted. "You shouldn't be on the road by yourself."

"I said I'm fine," Giles snapped. "I just want to be left alone for a while. Is that too much to ask?"

"We… we're just worried, is all." Willow said meekly.

Giles looked around at all their faces, their concern evident, and his countenance softened.

"I know. I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "Thank you." He studied each of them thoughtfully in turn. "You do all realize that I'm very proud of you?"

His comment was met with three looks of scepticism.

"Okay Giles, now you're acting scary," Xander said carefully. Giles responded with a small, wistful smile. "You sure you're okay?"

"You don't have to go back to the hotel tonight, you know," Willow suggested. "You can stay here."

"Thank you for the offer. But there really are some things I'd like to get done, and it is rather difficult to think in this house."

"Yeah, that's true," Willow conceded reluctantly.

"Well…" Giles looked around at Willow, Xander and Anya one last time. "Goodnight."


	2. Chapter 2

Giles stepped into his hotel room and closed the door softly behind him. He leaned back against it, his eyes closed, as if he was too tired to take another step. His breathing was ragged and he clenched and unclenched his fist compulsively. When he finally lifted his eyes, Giles saw that he was not alone.

Buffy stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, looking typically annoyed with him. "What'sa matter? Betrayal got you down?" she asked sarcastically. "Not as fun to be on the delivering end as you thought?"

"I know what you are." Giles replied coldly, eying the figure before him like it was a wild animal that might spring at any moment.

"Of course you do," the First went on, not missing a beat, "you know everything. What's best for the world, who should live and who should die – "

"I never thought that."

"But you make those decisions anyways."

"I don't have to defend myself to you," he said, gradually becoming accustomed to the First's presence.

"No I guess not," the First went on, unperturbed. "But what about to yourself? You were right, you know. I have got big plans for Spike. But that doesn't change the fact that you betrayed your precious Slayer."

Giles winced and started clenching his fist again. The First smirked, thinking his behaviour a sign of its success. Ignoring his companion, Giles walked wearily to the writing desk that stood against the wall and sat down at it. He opened the book that was laying on top and started writing in it frantically.

"But maybe she should have seen it coming," the First continued its monologue, "After all, it wasn't the first time… Although I must say, your follow-through has improved considerably." It wasn't Buffy's voice that was speaking anymore.

Giles glanced up from his writing to see Quentin Travers – grey-headed, tweed-clad and supremely self-confident – standing where his Slayer had been a moment before. Then he quickly turned back to his writing without comment.

"It isn't as though tonight's fiasco was your fault." There was a familiar note of condescension in the First's voice. "Wood should have moved more swiftly, should have reigned in his emotions. I daresay the operation would have been much more successful had your positions been reversed. However, that would have made you responsible for the, er, 'dirty work,' shall we say? And that is simply not fitting for a Watcher. Especially not for one of your callibre."

At this comment, Giles finally reacted, glaring at the likeness of his former superior. "And what, precisely, is that supposed to mean?"

The First feigned mild surprise. "Ah! So you were listening after all."

Giles simply continued to glare. The First smiled in the smug sort of way that Travers always did to demonstrate his superiority, and began pacing casually.

"It simply means that you have finally become the exemplary Watcher we all expected you to be. Pragmatic. Level-headed. Certainly not one to be swayed by emotion." Giles opened his mouth to protest, but the First cut him off with a patronizing chuckle, waving Travers' hand dismissively, "Oh, I know. You'll never be like us; you were simply doing what was necessary. Difficult times call for difficult decisions, isn't that so?" The First regarded Giles with the look of a parent gazing down upon a disappointing child. "Do you see now, that was what the Council was doing all along? Making the difficult decisions, doing what was necessary." It resumed a conversational tone, "There were many who died in the explosion who counted you as a friend, at least at some point. A former lover or two as well, if I'm not mistaken. You know how rumours circulate." It smiled briefly, then became serious once again. "You turned your back on them, on all of us. Perhaps now you have more sympathy for those whom you were so eager to condemn before?"

Giles looked away from Travers' steady and expectant gaze. He turned back to his diary and set his pen to paper again, writing madly.

"Bu' then, your moral compass a'ways was relative, eh Ripper?"

Giles froze. The new voice spoke in an accent fashioned to sound like a London street-youth. It was terribly forced and over-done, almost to the point of being tragicomic. Giles recognized it immediately. He turned slowly in his chair to face the young man now standing in his room.

The man – really more of a boy, he couldn't have been much older than twenty – wore tattered jeans and a leather jacket over a t-shirt sporting a hand-drawn anarchy symbol. His hair was long and unruly, and there was a smudge of eyeliner under his eyes. Despite his style of dress, his face was soft and youthful, as though he just got out of prep-school. Randall: as he was when Giles first met him. He smirked brashly

"I use' t' think tha' rules were made fo' breakin'. Bu' you knew better, di'n' you? You taught me th' truth: 'There are no rules, mate. Only walls in yer 'ead, built t' keep you from takin' whatcheh wan'…"

As he looked upon his old friend, Giles realized he was changing before his eyes, like the portrait of Dorian Gray. His flesh seemed to melt from his bones and he became angular and gaunt. Premature lines furrowed his once-smooth skin. His teeth yellowed. His hair became filthy and matted. Deep shadows appeared under his now-bloodshot eyes as they seemed to sink back into their sockets. Yet at the same time his eyes became brighter, sparking with a manic intensity.

When he spoke the street accent came with ease, "An' we were all about the taking, weren' we, Ripper? Whatever, whenever, wherever, however, whoever: we just took, an' took, an' took." He let out an insane laugh and threw his head back, shouting, "And damn the consequences!"

"Randall..."

"Damn them to hell!"

Giles' voice was near a whisper, "Randall, I'm so sorry..."

"Wha' was 'at, mate?"

"I'm sorry that this happened to you. That I –"

"Sorry? Abou' wha'? We were free!" Randall smiled horrifically, "Free as the birds in the air, an' the bunnies in the field, an' the wolves in the bleedin' forest!"

Giles shook his head, almost imperceptibly. His voice was flat and distant, "It wasn't worth it."

Randall leaned towards his one-time friend, his voice now a hoarse whisper. "Like bloody 'ell it wasn'. Whatever. Whoever. However. Ours for the taking."

"That wasn't any way to live."

Randall pushed away from Giles angrily. "No, it's the  _only_  way to live! You used t' think so, 'til you let the council build up some nice li'l' walls for you t' hide behind."

"I had a duty. And a debt to pay." Giles said plainly.

Randall laughed bitterly at the statement. "An' again I say: like bloody, soddin' hell! Screw duty, screw debt, and screw sorry. You ran back to the Council like a li'l boy runnin' to hide be'ind his mum. You were scared." Randall swaggered towards Giles, until he was only inches away. For a second his manic eyes flashed with green light. "You were never strong enough." Giles started at the echo of Eyghon in Randall's voice, but when he spoke again, it was gone, "The Council gave you the walls an' you told yo'self a nice li'l' story 'bout bein' all noble. But deep inside, you know, yer no hero…"

In an instant, the figure's features shifted.

Giles' eyes widened in shock; he was no longer looking at Randall, but at Ben.

"You're a killer…"

Again, the features morphed, and Giles found himself gazing into dark, familiar eyes.

"…and a coward." Jenny stepped away, observing Giles thoughtfully.

He stared at her unguardedly, taking in everything about her appearance: her hair, her skin, her clothes, everything as it had been the last time he saw her alive. Then, in an instant, his gaze became shuttered, and he turned back to his writing.

The First watched him, becoming increasingly perturbed as time passed. "Well, this is disappointing," it said peevishly, crossing its arms. "I had hoped I could hold your attention better than your demon-drug-buddy, Randy. You two weren't closer than you were letting on, were you?"

Giles smirked to himself. Not allowing himself to be distracted from his writing, he addressed the First without so much as glancing at it. "No, nothing like that. I simply am prepared. I was expecting you to appear like this much sooner."

"Well, I like to save the big guns for last."

Giles didn't reply, but took a minute to finish his writing. Then he closed his diary, set it aside and turned to face the First with assurance. "You're not her," he said plainly.

The First shrugged. "Fine. So I'm not. But I can tell you what she would say."

Giles observed with confident detachment as the First instantly took on the stance, the airs, the mannerisms, the very essence of Jenny Calendar.

It faced him now as she had in Sunnydale High library six years ago, its every move the perfect echo of the movements Giles had replayed in his mind countless times. "I have to admit, England, the whole 'noble devotion to the cause' thing was part of the attraction. How you were so determined to face the Master instead of Buffy. How, on parent-teacher night, you begged Buffy to let you fight with her. Even the way you turned your back on me after Angel turned, for Buffy's sake, was somehow admirable. But I've had a lot of time to think since then, and I realized: it was all an excuse." It crossed its arms again, and looked at Giles the way Jenny used to when they bickered about the merits of computer technology. "I mean, you  _know_  that Buffy's the hero here. You know she'll shut you down every time you try to fight for her. You knew it even when you went all righteous avenger on Angel for me. You can be just as battle-ready as you want, and never have to worry about making that ultimate heroic sacrifice, because she'll stop you every time." It paused, and it's indignation faded, becoming that odd mix of pity and disillusionment that Jenny showed towards him after her possession. "And it wasn't just major things like that either. You always did what was easy, holing up in that library instead of facing life. You know that Buffy would say the same thing about you running back to England. And, speaking of whom, it was so much easier to hide behind Buffy's anger than to love me back, wasn't it?"

As it gazed at him searchingly through Jenny's eyes, Giles' confidence faltered.

When it spoke again, its voice was tender, yet filled with sorrow and disappointment. "You're a pretender, Rupert. You step forward when you're not needed. And when you are needed, ever so desperately, you're nowhere to be found. I found that out the hard way."

Giles turned away from Jenny's gaze, from her accusations and her pity. He struggled to maintain his stony expression, while looking for all the world like he was trying to conjure up memories of times when he  _was_  where he needed to be, and helped save the day, though the memories kept eluding him.

"So, let's see what we have here," the First said in a business-like manner, and began pacing. "You do what needs doing, or at least what you think needs doing. Really, you're a taker, or at least you would be if you weren't so scared. You like to play at being all noble when really, you're a coward. And, interestingly enough, you're not afraid to kill, but you are afraid to die…" The First didn't notice the odd, secretive smile that appeared on Giles' face, as he turned to regard it cooly once again, but it continued summarizing his qualities, "Oh, and you're willing to betray Buffy, can't forget that." Unexpectedly, the First's smirk softened into an expression of concern, "And yet, you love her very much. Despite the fact that you're weak, and afraid, you want to do what's right for her. For all of them. You'll try, but you'll fail. As always." It paused to let it's words seep in.

Giles looked away as if considering what he had just heard, but his odd smile didn't falter.

The First went on, "So, my suggestion is, make things easy on them. And yourself."

Giles turned back to it, smile gone, and cocked his head inquisitively.

The First looked at him with eyes that were intense yet compassionate. Its voice was soft and kind, "Buffy was happy, wherever she was. That was stolen from her. You can send her back again. You can give that same happiness to the others too: Willow, Dawn, Xander... think of all they've gone through. Don't they deserve it? You can give that to the whole world. And to yourself." Its voice became lower; it spoke in a seductive tone that Giles had heard all too seldom. "I can tell from the way you look at me. You know what I am, but seeing me like this - it's enough. You're eager to end this, to be with her again, aren't you?"

Giles didn't respond, but stared at Jenny's likeness intently.

It continued, "You're scared, but I can help you, I can show you how."

Giles' lips twitched into the odd little smile again. He rose from his chair and walked away from the First. He went to the liquor cabinet, and inspected its contents, selecting several of the miniature bottles. "Thank you for the offer. I'm quite flattered, really." Giles spoke as though turning down a dinner invitation. Bottles in hand, he went to one of the crates of books he was storing in his room, and started rifling through its contents. "However, if you are looking for someone to, er, do your bidding..." He found the book he was looking for – Forester – straightened up, and turned to the First, smiling genially. "I'm afraid you've just wasted quite a bit of your time."

The First stared blankly at Giles as he reclined on the hotel bed, opening one of the liquor bottles and pouring its contents into the tumbler sitting on the nightstand. He opened the Forester book and apparently became immersed in it immediately. His eyes never left the page as he sipped his drink absently, not even glancing up when the First finally burst into a gale of laughter, as though it had just heard the punch line to the funniest joke ever told. Nor did Giles react when Jenny's laugh changed abruptly to Buffy's giggles.

But as the sound of Buffy's laughter died down, Giles grimaced painfully, as he had earlier, his breathing becoming sharp and shallow. The moment soon passed, however. He took a somewhat shaky drink and returned to reading as though nothing had happened.

"You really are the essence of all things British, aren't you?" the First teased, the same way Buffy used to. "That was some highly skilled repression on your part. I'm impressed."

"Mm, thank you." Giles responded absently.

"Y'know, I think I'm disappointed." The First's tone was light, but surprisingly sincere. "Of course, I'd've been satisfied with anyone from the Slayer's little circle of do-gooders, but I think you and I could've made an especially good team."

"I would have to disagree."

"And I really enjoyed our little chat."

"Wish I could say the same."

"Hey, your curiosity was satisfied. What more do you want from me?"

"What I'd really like is for you to vacate this universe entirely. Or at least my room." He briefly glanced at the First over the top of his book. "Let me have a bit of peace."

The First rolled its eyes, then smiled at Giles in a manner that could be described as fond.

"You do realize what this means, don't you?"

Giles' brow creased: he didn't know. He looked up from his book to see the First grinning at him broadly.

"You and I are going to have a lot of fun together."

Giles continued to stare. For the first time that evening, he looked truly scared.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written by banduraqueen, who is on fanfiction.net, but not AO3

Buffy walked into her office at Sunnydale High the next day and stopped in her tracks, slightly alarmed.

"Giles? What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

He had been waiting for her in her office. He looked up when she entered, but didn't meet her gaze.

"No. No, I, um, I-I was just h-hoping that I, um, th-that I-I-I might talk to you…" He trailed off embarrassedly.

Buffy crossed her arms and regarded her Watcher coldly, "It can't wait 'til four? 'Cause you know, this is my work. And funnily enough, they actually expect me to work when I'm here."

Giles shrank back at Buffy's tone. "Right. O-of course. I-I… well… I-it's simply that there isn't much opportunity for private conversation at the house as of late, is there?" He attempted a reconciliatory smile. It faded quickly. "But you're right, o-of course…Well, um, I'll just, uh, go…" He walked past Buffy and towards the door, his head hung low, staring at the ground.

He was so humble and repentant it was pathetic. Against her will, Buffy felt her heart giving way. "Giles, wait. What did you want to say?" she called out to him reluctantly.

He turned to face her, but still couldn't look her in the eye. "That you were right," he said softly. Buffy blinked, surprised by his admission. "Last night. About everything. But especially about there being nothing else I can teach you, that-that you don't need me..."

He sounded so wounded that Buffy unexpectedly found herself searching for something comforting to tell him. Not that she was forgiving him. Not so soon. Not yet.

"…That's why I'm leaving."

Buffy did a double take. "What?"

"This afternoon. I'll be, uh, gathering more potentials, but I shan't return."

"Wha-? Why?" He couldn't leave her. Not again. It wasn't right for him to be the one to go.

He looked at her with an odd mix of exasperation and sadness. "I just told you. And you know full well, I'm more of a burden than an asset."

"No you aren't. We do need you here."

Giles' lips twitched upwards in an ironic smile. "To do what?"

Nothing came to mind. He just couldn't go. All of Buffy's previous ire towards him was melting away.

"I want you here," she replied, a note of pleading in her voice. "I want you to stay."

Almost imperceptibly, Giles' countenance seemed to harden. "In what capacity?" he asked.

Buffy was puzzled by what he meant. "As a friend?" she replied uncertainly.

"We aren't friends, Buffy." Giles declared, a hint of bitterness tingeing his voice. "Friendship is a reciprocal relationship. Mutual respect. We don't have that."

Dumbfounded by Giles' statement, it was a moment before Buffy could answer. Finally she spoke, her voice quavering, "How can you say that? You know I care about you."

He was looking right at her now, with an almost pitying gaze. And with something else that Buffy couldn't quite name. "You don't show it. And really, it doesn't come close to how I feel about you," he said.

She could only stare back at him, completely confused.

"I've given my life for you, Buffy," he explained. "Even before we met, thirty years in preparation for you. Then seven years serving you, sacrificing for you, only to be cast aside for the sake of a vampire." He ended bitterly.

Buffy gawked in disbelief, as a slow-burning comprehension overcame her. "Oh my god. This is about  _Spike_?"

"I can't help that it hurts me to see you with him."

"What?" Buffy wasn't sure she heard him properly. What he was saying just made too little sense, was too unreal.

"It hurts," he spoke quietly, looking away, unable to face her, "to know that you'd given yourself to a vile creature of evil. Again."

Buffy's mouth hung open. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. And yet, she was hearing it. A look of dawning horror crept into her expression.

Giles was looking at her directly now, looking at her like… like he never had before. He slowly began to approach her, speaking softly, intimately, "Angel tortured me for hours, you know. I still have the scars. But far worse was when he told me precisely what you let him do to you the night he lost his soul. He told me every sordid detail. So I do know of what I speak when I say I could do so much more for you." He dropped his gaze, scanning her body.

"Oh, god," Buffy said, sickened. She shrank away from him, backing up towards the wall.

"Shocked, are you?" Giles' voice took on the dry, sarcastic tone he usually used when they bickered about more mundane things. He kept advancing towards her. "Surprised that those marvelously short skirts you used to wear affected my imagination the same way they affected every other boys' you sauntered past in the hall?" Her back hit the wall. He stood only inches from her. "Don't look so appalled, Buffy. You let monsters touch you, why not me?" He raised a hand to gently caress her face.

But before he could, Buffy pushed him away violently. Or tried to. Instead, she passed right through him. She froze in place, her eyes wide with the shock of awful comprehension.

The First turned around to face Buffy, light amusement playing on its face. "Hm. I suppose that makes it rather a moot point, doesn't it?"

Buffy was already out the door. She had bolted from the office without looking back.


	4. Chapter 4

Jimmy was playing a Gameboy when the blonde girl burst through the doors of the Sunnydale Arms. He tossed his game under the counter and tried to look professional as she jogged up to him.

"Where's your phone? I need to use it," she demanded.

Jimmy gestured to the courtesy phone sitting on the counter, two feet away from where he stood. The girl seized it and dialed 9-1-1.

"I need an ambulance and paramedics at eleven-fifty-six Main Street, the Sunnydale Arms, room five-oh-three." She appeared to be listening to someone on the other end. "I don't know…" Her voice rose with desperation. "I don't know what happened, maybe he had a stroke, or a heart attack, or someone broke into his room, I don't know, I just need help!" She appeared to be calmed by what the other person was saying. "Okay, well hurry." She slammed the receiver down with a resounding crack. Maybe "calmed" was too strong a word.

Jimmy stared. How could she know what's going on at the hotel, when he hadn't even heard anything about an emergency? It must have been a crank call.

"Miss, what's going on?" he asked, trying his best to sound authoritative.

She turned to Jimmy and spoke as if he hadn't said a word. "I need to get into Rupert Giles' room, number five-oh-three, do you have a key?"

"Look, I can't just –"

"There isn't time!" The girl pounded the marble counter top with her fist, and cracks spidered out from where she made impact. "Either you get me the key, or I go up there and break down the door myself, along with whatever security you call up to put in my way."

Jimmy licked his lips nervously and glanced at the damaged counter top. "I'll get the manager."

* * *

Willow was working on her laptop in the kitchen. With light streaming in through the window and the house quiet, with all the potentials training in the backyard, it was the perfect spot to get some quality research done.

"Willow?" Giles' voice came from behind her, and she spun around to see him standing in the doorway.

"Giles! Hi, how're you feeling?" Willow asked. He really had looked deathly ill the night before.

"Quite a bit better, actually," he smiled in reply, stepping into the kitchen.

Willow was relieved. "Good, you had us all worried."

"I apologize for having upset you," he said sincerely. He seemed genuinely touched by her concern.

"Well, just don't do it again, capice?"

"I promise, I won't."

"Good."

They shared a smile. Willow noticed that Giles really did look remarkably better. He almost looked like his old self – like he did back in England. Yet there was still something odd about him. But then there had been ever since he had come back to Sunnydale.

"So, what were you so keen on getting done last night?" she asked curiously, turning back to her computer.

"Not much. I talked to some old friends," he replied casually. He stepped into the kitchen and wandered over to lean against the counter on the other side of the kitchen island from Willow.

"Uh huh?"

"I called the coven as well," Giles told her conversationally.

"Yeah? How is everyone?" Willow asked.

"Quite well. They, er, had lot of question about you, actually."

There was something in the way Giles said it that made Willow worry, made her think that the witches didn't ask about her secrets to hair-care. She looked up from the computer screen. "About me?"

"They, um, e-expressed some concern about the level of control you have over your powers." Giles said delicately.

"Oh… but, I-I've been getting better. You told them that, right?"

"I did. Even though it's been twice now that your powers have taken on a, erm, life of their own, I explained that you have been improving… However, they seemed particularly worried over the fact that your spells allowed the First to use you as a conduit."

Willow winced. "Only a little."

Giles continued, choosing his words carefully. "They seem to be afraid that having opened yourself to the First's presence, you have made yourself vulnerable to it's influence, and that after what happened last year –"

"I'm not going to go evil again," Willow said adamantly.

"And I don't doubt that," Giles assured her hastily. "I defended you, Willow. Unfortunately the coven is not easily convinced, and they insist that you cannot be entirely trusted."

"What…?" It was too painful to believe; that the women she had spent the summer with, who had seemed to show so much faith in her abilities, didn't trust her with her own powers. Had she really screwed up that much?

"I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tell you that way…" He seemed genuinely regretful that the words had come out the way they did. He continued, "At any rate, they suggested that it might be best if you left Sunnydale for a while."

"Leave…?"

"And… I don't entirely disagree with them," Giles added softly.

Willow stared at him with a wounded expression.

"Willow… the fact is that you have a great deal of power that may be used by the First for its own purposes, whether you want it to or not. Until you develop a stronger grasp of those powers, they are a danger to yourself as well as those around you. And I would hate myself if I allowed anything to happen that might have been prevented if –"

"I-I don't understand. I'm getting better. And I'm helping. Now all of a sudden, you want me to run away?"

"It's not running away." He spoke in a gentle, reassuring tone. "You have an enormous amount of power, Willow. And with that comes the responsibility to understand and control it. We've discussed this."

"But, they need me here," Willow said desperately. "Buffy needs me."

"I'm beginning to question how much Buffy needs any of us," Giles caught himself complaining bitterly, and quickly changed his demeanor. "I'm sorry."

"No, I-I know what you mean," Willow admitted sadly.

"It was uncalled for…" Giles insisted, then continued with the topic at hand. "Willow, think of how much more you could accomplish if you leave now and return in a month or so, stronger than ever. It could make all the difference."

"Maybe…" The young witch considered his point.

"You'll think about it, won't you? Promise me?"

"I will."

Giles nodded. "Whatever you decide, I'm certain it will be the right choice," he said with a significant look, and a smile of encouragement.

Willow smiled weakly back. Her smile faded as soon as Giles left the room.

* * *

The blonde girl was out of the elevator before the doors finished opening. She raced down the hallway, with Gerald Bergstrom, manager of the Sunnydale Arms, jogging behind her.

Gerald knocked on the door of 503.

"Just open up!" the blonde demanded

Some of her urgency was rubbing off on Gerald, so when no one answered immediately, he didn't hesitate to swipe the flash card through the lock. Heaven knows, he had seen enough in his time in Sunnydale to realize that anything that could go wrong, would.

He wasn't disappointed.

The man could have been sleeping, his eyes closed gently behind the glasses he still wore, one hand still holding the book that lay open on his chest, the other hanging limply over the side of the bed. A glass lay overturned on the carpet next to the bed, and the hotel manager couldn't help but wince, thinking of the cost of removing the alcohol stain from the rug.

He didn't wake as the pair stormed into the room, didn't stir. Gerald approached the bed to check for a pulse, but could already tell from the gray tone of the man's skin that he would find none.

Gerald had expected the girl to run to the bed, as she had been running everywhere since he first saw her, and start shaking the man by the shoulders, calling his name. He was glad when she didn't. He had seen enough of that in this hotel, people returning to find loved ones dead in their rooms. Usually, there were neck ruptures. But this one seemed normal. Well, as normal as such things could be.

He looked up and turned to the girl. She was standing in the centre of the room, staring. Her mouth was set in a hard line, and though her eyes swam with tears, none overflowed. He shook his head. No pulse. She tilted her chin in something of a nod. As if confirming something she had already known.

Gerald heard the paramedics getting off the elevator and coming down the hall. He went to the door and called to them, "In here."

When he went back in, the girl had turned away from the bed, as the paramedics did whatever it was they did. She stood next to the writing desk, and ran her fingers over the cover of a book that sat on top. When she picked it up and opened it, Gerald saw that the pages were hand-written.

One of the paramedics turned from the bed, his gaze shifting between Gerald and the blonde girl. "Are either of you family?"

The girl closed the book and held it at her side.

"I am."

* * *

"Good morning, Xander," Giles said as he entered the living room.

"Hey Giles," Xander replied, glancing up from the book he was studying. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you. Reading something?"

"Believe it or not. There's some big demony thing running around, wreaking havoc. Doesn't seem to have any plan, just big with the smash and kill. Seems pretty durable, though, so we're looking for a way to kill it." He leafed through the book in his lap, decided it was of no more use to him, and chose another from the coffee table. "Anya should be here soon to help out."

Giles seemed to consider what Xander had told him. "You and Anya are handling this on your own?"

"Someone's gotta. You and the Buffmeister are kinda preoccupied with the big loomin' evil." He glanced up from the book. "Understandably. There's still a bunch o' little bitty evils to deal with. Or, in this case a large, hulking, ugly evil."

"You've taken on quite a bit, haven't you?" Giles regarded him thoughtfully. "I'm impressed."

Xander shrugged in a self-deprecating manner, though he was clearly pleased.

"Does Buffy know what's going on?" Giles asked, off-hand.

"If she does, she hasn't shown it. We really don't talk much these days," Xander explained.

"I suppose that if she did, she wouldn't be so keen getting you out of the way," Giles remarked casually.

Xander looked up at the older man, disbelief apparent on his face. "She's what?"

Giles cocked his head inquisitively. "Didn't she tell you?"

"No." Xander's gaze shifted downwards, thought he clearly was not seeing the pages before him. "Not that Buffy's told me much of anything."

Giles gave Xander a pitying look.

* * *

Suzanne hated taking passengers in the ambulance. Especially when there was nothing to be done, no one to be saved. You'd think she'd be used to it by now, have some standard words of comfort to offer at least. But it never got any better. What made it worse was when they wanted to talk. She never knew how to respond. They probably thought that because she was a woman she was all sensitive or something. Well, guess what? Spending your time driving the dead and dying around town kinda desensitizes a person.

At least this passenger was keeping to herself. The blonde just stared vacantly, clutching her book to her chest like some kind of shy schoolgirl.

Then the sniffles started. Then the hiccoughs. Then the halting, half-stifled sobs. Suzanne expected the blonde to start bawling and weeping, but she didn't, which was something to be grateful for. But the longer it went on, the more she wished the girl would just break down and have a good wail. The restrained sobs had a way of being somehow more pathetic and… heartbreaking. Suzanne was about to tell her too, but by that time, they had arrived at Sunnydale Memorial.

* * *

Willow was still lost in thought when the phone rang.

"I'll get it," she called to Xander and Giles, who were in the living room, discussing something intently.

"Hello?… Buffy, hi." Willow furrowed her brow. "Is something wrong?"

* * *

Xander was becoming increasingly agitated as Giles talked.

"It's not just you, of course," the Watcher was saying. "Buffy hasn't paid any of us much mind as of late. But I would think that you've proven your competency enough times for her to –"

He was interrupted by Willow's voice. "Get out," she growled. Xander and Giles turned to see her standing in the doorway, glaring at Giles, radiating power and fury.

Giles blinked. "Excuse me?" he asked, moderately puzzled.

"Leave. Now."

Xander looked warily between his two friends. "Uh, Will? What's going on?"

The corners of Giles' mouth turned up in a malicious smile as he turned to Xander. "Don't tell me you haven't figured it out yet. It's a marvel that someone as painfully stupid as you hasn't impaled himself on a stake by now."

"I said,  _get out_." Willow's eyes had turned pitch black.

Giles regarded her, seemingly entertained. "Careful now, you don't want to inadvertently flay the entire household."

"Willow?" Xander's voice was timid, and he looked at the figure that he had thought to be Giles with dawning fear.

"Has the penny finally dropped?" it asked him. "Or am I being overly optimistic? God, I pity these people for having to put up with you."

The front door opened, and Anya strode in. "Sorry I'm late, I…" she stopped when she noticed that no one had acknowledged her entrance. "Hello? I'm here. Don't I get a greeting?"

At least Giles nodded in her direction, though he addressed himself to Willow, "Although I suppose the true test of your patience was in not cutting out this twit's tongue years ago."

"Oh, ha ha." Anya said, tossing her purse on the hall table and crossing her arms. "I don't know what your problem's been lately, Giles, but whatever it is, there's no reason to bitch at the rest of us."

"That's not Giles," Xander said, without removing his eyes from the individual in question.

"Oh, bravo," it said dryly.

"What? What's going on?"

The First turned to Anya. "You're a monster, you know. You'll never really fit in with them. They've never even liked you. Even when you die for them – which is more than likely – and go to hell – which you will, because you are a creature of evil – they won't shed a tear. In fact, they'll be relieved to have you gone."

"Shut up!" Xander yelled, as Anya stood silently, looking as though she had just been spit on.

"Don't you dare use his face again," Willow snarled.

The First turned towards her, slowly, as amusement played across its features. "Are you threatening me?" Willow only glared in confirmation. "What precisely do you think you can do to harm me?" It smirked when the question was met with silence. "Well, I can tell when I've worn out my welcome." It looked around at the friends, with a smile that was cruel and smug, looking alien on Giles' face. "Oh, and in case you were wondering," the First added in an offhand, casual tone, "his death was painful and lonely, and really quite pathetic. You could have saved him last night, but you would have done better to have noticed he was ill when he first returned. And yes, you should absolutely blame yourselves."

And with that it disappeared, leaving nothing but stunned silence in its wake.

Anya was like stone, staring at the spot where the First had stood, brow furrowed as though in concentration. Xander looked from one woman to the other, eyes wide, appearing very much to be on the verge of panic. Potentials had begun to wander into the room. Some looked around, confused and nervous, while others whispered among themselves. Willow's mask of anger fell apart, and she turned to her friends, her eyes once again green, and filled with urgency.

"We need to tell Dawn."

* * *

Dawn was sitting in front of Sunnydale High, having lunch with her friends on the lawn, when she saw Giles coming up the walk to the school. She excused herself from her group, and ran to meet him.

"Hey Giles!"

"Oh!" He turned to the girl, surprised. "Dawn, hello."

"Come to see Buffy? Or to relive your librarian days?"

"As tempting as that may be, I'm afraid not." His expression became serious. "I've come to talk to you, actually."

"Is something wrong?" Dawn asked, suddenly worried.

"That remains to be seen." Giles began walking across the lawn away from the school, indicating that Dawn should follow him. "It's about Buffy. Her recent behaviour has given me cause to worry."

"Is she alright?"

"I'm more worried about you."

Dawn furrowed her brow in a mixture of concern and puzzlement, as Giles stopped and turned to face her.

"Dawn, you will likely find this disturbing, but I feel I must tell you –"

"I can take it," she asserted surely.

Giles nodded. "Very well." Dawn steeled herself. "After Glory had captured you, I tried to make Buffy understand that, if worse came to worst, she may have had to kill you in order to prevent the barriers between dimensions from breaking down." Giles spoke matter-of-factly, a cold edge to his voice. "I hope you don't take it personally. I should think that if one were forced to choose between saving the world and saving a girl who never existed in the first place, the proper choice would be obvious. Clearly that wasn't the case with Buffy."

The Summers' car pulled up on the road behind Dawn. She didn't notice it, stunned as she was. The First, however, did, and hurried its narrative along.

"However, after speaking with her about that decision last night, I've discovered that Buffy has changed her mind."

"What…?"

The car door opened and Willow leapt out. "Dawn!" she called, but the girl didn't hear her. Her attention was focused on what Giles was saying.

"If she could do it again, she would slit your throat."

Dawn stared at the likeness of Giles, aghast. Willow ran up besides her, took her by the shoulders and pulled her away. The First simply smiled, self-satisfied. Dawn watched, horror-struck, as it disappeared.

* * *

The blonde girl sat in the morgue waiting room, hands folded on top of the book on her lap, staring at an undefined spot on the floor.

"Buffy…"

She looked up at the sound of Xander's voice. They were all there: Dawn, Willow, Xander and Anya. Fear and grief mixed on their faces. They looked so very much like children. They waited for some direction on what to do next, searched her shuttered face for some kind of sign; but there was none. There was nothing to say.


	5. Chapter 5

The minute the Scoobies returned to the Summers' home, Dawn ran up the stairs to her room.

"Dawn…" Willow called after her.

"Let her go," Buffy said as she set the book she was carrying down on the front hall table. "We have things to talk about anyways."

The group headed into the kitchen, away from the mass of Potentials that were sleeping in the living room.

"I think we should send the body back to England to be buried," Anya said thoughtfully. "I think he'd like that."

"I didn't mean talk about that." Buffy sounded tired and exasperated.

"Too soon, Ahn," Xander said gently.

Willow smiled kindly at Anya. "I think it's a good idea, though."

Anya nodded at Buffy. "You're right. We need some time to cry and reminisce, and talk about how we're all going to miss him."

"No," Buffy replied coldly. "We need to talk about what we're going to do next."

Anya blinked, puzzled. "I don't understand. What's to talk about? We cry and we mourn and we all feel horrible together, like when Joyce died, or when you died. Then we have a funeral and memorial, and then pretend that we've all moved on, when really we haven't –"

"No, we're not," Buffy interrupted, more forcefully this time. "This is different."

"Of course it's different. This time it's Giles." Anya said matter-of-factly.

"No! We don't have the luxury to grieve. We have a war to fight."

The others gawked at Buffy's pronouncement.

"You're not serious." Anya said, stunned and a little hurt. Buffy looked at her, steadily, challenging. Anya gathered herself up. "Fine," she spat. "Fight your war."

The ex-demon stormed out the back door. Buffy turned to address Willow and Xander, but the back door slammed open as Anya returned.

"If you need me, I'll be out back, crying over my dead friend!"

Anya turned as she wiped tears from her eyes, and stalked off again.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Buffy spoke. When she did, she was all business.

"Right. So first thing we need to do is get all the information Giles was using to find the Potentials, and we need the books he had in his room too. The coroner is holding his stuff. I checked, and they aren't releasing it to anyone except for family or someone with some kind of documentation. So Will," Willow started at being addressed directly. "I need you to come up with documentation."

Willow fidgeted. "Um, Buffy… I'm sure that once they get around to his will… he woulda left all the important stuff to us," she said carefully.

"We can't wait that long," Buffy replied. "Besides, we can't afford to make assumptions."

Willow looked at Buffy, stunned, as well as somewhat horrified at the task that had been set for her.

Buffy went on. "Then we need to continue to gather the potentials. Xander," she turned to her other friend, "can you do that?"

The corner of Xander's mouth twitched up in a humourless smile. "Sure, Buff. Always knew you'd want me out of the way the first chance you got."

Buffy sighed. "Don't be immature. It's an important job, someone has to do it, and I need Willow here."

"Oh, I see. You just don't need me."

"Xander, I need you to do  _this_."

"Right, whatever." Xander knew he was being childish, and had already had enough of the argument anyways. "I'll find the supergirls for you. But right now, if you  _don't need me_ , I'm going to go have a good mourn." He turned to head out the back door.

"Wait," Buffy took his arm to stop him. "We have to work this out."

"No,  _you've_  got stuff to work out." Xander's angry tone quickly calmed to one of quiet disbelief. "I don't know what your problem is, Buffy, but you've really taken the 'human' out of 'superhuman'. The world won't end if we take a night off to grieve." Xander thought about this statement for a second. "Or maybe it will. But not tonight."

She opened her mouth to protest, but Xander cut her off. "Not tonight, Buffy."

And with that he left.

Buffy turned to Willow, whose eyes were by now glistening with tears.

"I-I can't do this right now," Willow managed to stammer out before running up the stairs to her room, leaving Buffy alone.

* * *

Xander found Anya sitting on the stoop, looking out at the yard. She looked up briefly when he sat down next to her, and he saw that tears were streaming down her face.

They sat in silence together for only a minute or two before Anya felt compelled to speak.

"I tried to kill him the first time I met him, you know."

"Yeah?" Xander's voice was distant, his thoughts elsewhere.

Anya nodded. "He broke my amulet and made me human."

Xander turned to face her. "I never knew that."

"Neither did he." She was pensive for a moment. "I still don't know whether or not I would thank him for it."

Xander turned his gaze back to the lawn. "Being human sucks," he said plainly.

"He believed so much that this world had to be better." Anya continued along her own train of thought. "I don't know if it is anymore. Sure, you're not some evil bad ass vampire, and there's something to be said for that. But Buffy's still all dark, and people are still dying, and there's still this big looming evil. And in the end, he was still sad and alone. Only, I don't know if he still believed that the world could be better."

"He had to," Xander replied without consideration. "That's why we do this. Why we fight."

"Then why did he give up?" Anya asked tentatively, her voice full of doubt.

"He didn't. He couldn't help it."

"How do you know?"

"Giles would never give up as long as Buffy needed him," Xander said with conviction, though he was becoming agitated.

Anya's brow creased. "What if he thought she didn't though? It would be easy to believe, the way she's been acting."

Xander turned towards her angrily. "Anya! Just –" He was cut short when Anya started weeping. His expression softened and he placed an arm around his erstwhile girlfriend's shoulders and sighed. "I'm sorry."

Anya shook her head. "He's never going to yell at me like that again," she said between sobs. "Or glare at me when he thinks I've done something inappropriate because he's all stuffy and English. And I won't ever be able to interrupt him when he's in the middle of one of his old books again, or hear him singing to himself when he thinks no one's listening, or see him smile." Xander rubbed her arm in a comforting manner, though his expression had become vacant and distant once again. "A-and that one time he kissed me –"

"What?" Xander's head snapped up. "When was this?"

Anya sniffed as her tears subsided. "When we all forgot who we were, we thought we were engaged. And at the time it was really weird, because he was Giles, but in retrospect it was quite nice, and I wish I had told him that."

"And normally I would be much more wigged by this information." Xander sighed. "God damn…"

Anya continued as if uninterrupted. "And last year, when he was dying, I thought of all these things I wanted to tell him, but never did because I got all distracted when he said you saved the world –"

"He could tell?" Xander turned towards her again, surprised.

Anya shrugged. "It was part of his plan, to dose Willow with magic so you could get through to her."

"Really?"

"He knew you would do it."

Xander looked out at the lawn, thoughtful. "Huh."

"Kind of a stupid plan, if you ask me. I told him that."

* * *

Willow sat on her bed in the dimly lit master bedroom, hugging her knees and crying quietly. There was a soft knock on the door, and Willow turned to see Dawn slip in. Her cheeks were wet, but there were no fresh tears.

"Can I come in?"

Willow nodded, and Dawn climbed onto the bed next to her. The two girls hugged.

"Buffy's not talking," Dawn told her.

"This'll be hardest on her," Willow replied, unable to disguise the doubt in her voice.

"I guess." Dawn stared at the pattern on the bedspread. "It's not fair. We cared about him too."

"But he was her Watcher."

"I know," Dawn said, grudgingly. She thought for a moment before saying, "I used to hate him for that. I used to think it was like, Buffy had this extra family that didn't include me."

"Oh, Dawnie…" Willow placed a comforting hand on the younger girl's shoulder.

Dawn continued as though Willow wasn't there. "And I guess it really didn't, 'cause I didn't actually exist at the time."

"You know he cared about you too."

"I know," Dawn answered lightly. "About all of us. But Buffy was his Slayer." Dawn smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Willow studied her with concern. Dawn's face soon became more pensive. "Do you think he's where Buffy went, when she died?"

"I don't know. I hope so."

"He'd come back for us, wouldn't he? Or even just for Buffy?"

"Dawn…" Willow began, with a mixture of surprise, fear, and worry over what the girl might be planning.

"Or, is there a spell you could do so that he wouldn't have to leave, but we could still talk to him?"

"What is it?" Willow demanded softly.

Dawn cast her eyes down. "I just wish I could talk to him one more time. E-especially about something the First said."

"Dawn, you know all it does is lie," Willow said soothingly.

Dawn looked up, questioningly. "Does it?"

Willow didn't answer, wondering herself.

"I'd just like to talk to him again," Dawn continued.

"I know. But he wouldn't want me to even try."

Dawn nodded and the two girls sat in silence for a while, huddled together on the bed, each immersed in her own thoughts.

"Willow?"

"Hm?"

"How far do you think he would have gone?" Dawn asked, in a distant tone that suggested her thoughts were still elsewhere. "To protect Buffy? Like, if it was one of us who threatened her?"

"I think we know."

Dawn glanced up, puzzled, before she realized that she had been so wrapped up in her thoughts on the battle with Glory that she had forgotten all about what happened with Willow the year before. "Oh. Right. Sorry."

"He would have sacrificed himself," Willow continued. "And… maybe he did…"

Dawn regarded her friend with sympathy. "Don't feel guilty. He wouldn't want you to."

"Maybe he would," Willow speculated, tears welling up in her eyes. "Keep me from doing anything stupid and evil again."

"He didn't have to come back, you know," Dawn said in a comforting tone. "One of the witches could have come for you instead. He did it because he cared about you."

Willow glanced up at the girl with a teary half-smile. "That just makes it worse."

* * *

Buffy had gone up to her room and was sitting on the floor by her bed. She stared into space, trying to think of practical things, trying to think of how angry Giles had made her, trying to think of nothing at all.

She wasn't surprised when she heard his voice.

"I know what you're thinking," his voice came from the doorway, gentle, comforting. Buffy revealed no sign of having heard him. "If we hadn't fought, if you hadn't shut me out last night, you would have been able to help me in time. I would still be alive." He approached her slowly. "And of course it's completely possible that the fight itself caused the heart attack"

He was next to her now, but still Buffy didn't turn in his direction.

"You're thinking that you killed me last night." She shut her eyes; herface remained blank and expressionless.

"But you must remember that I've been having health problems for a while. Ever since Angel tortured me, as a matter of fact. Then, being speared through the side by a Byzantine knight didn't do me any favours. Nor did my confrontation with Willow last year, for that matter.

"I hope you don't blame her, by the way," he added lightly. "After all, the entire episode wouldn't have taken place had Warren been dealt with in a more timely manner." He let that statement hang in the air for a moment before continuing.

"At any rate, I suspect all the battering would not have had such an adverse effect if it hadn't been for the constant stress. I don't believe I ever told you; I developed something like insomnia that summer you ran away. I never did get over it entirely. Oh, it was cured by a good scotch or brandy – or, several, rather – although I can't imagine that much alcohol was very good for the heart either. Perhaps if I had taken some time to relax with some friends, the effects would have been milder, but of course I left them all in England when I came here for you. Or maybe if I had a girlfriend, but… well, you know what happened with that," he said ruefully.

When he spoke again, his voice was gentle and sincere. "Anyways, my point is simply that it is ridiculous for you to blame my death on that fight. You didn't kill me last night, Buffy.

"You've been killing me for much longer than that."

Buffy opened her eyes and turned to where the voice had been coming from.

No one was there.


	6. Chapter 6

Buffy was crying, her first really good cry in a long time. She hated it and wanted it to stop, but she couldn't help it. The tears just kept coming.

When it at last subsided, she decided to go to the washroom to wash her face. She placed her hands on the floor besides her to push herself up, and her right hand didn't come to rest on the carpet, but on the book she had brought from Giles' hotel room – his diary. She thought she had left it in the hall, but she must have brought it upstairs with her without realizing it. She opened it and started reading, then stopped, feeling suddenly intrusive. Yet she didn't want to put the book down. She flipped through the pages, wanting to read, but feeling it would be somehow wrong. When she neared the end, her eye was caught by her name at the top of a page. The entry, the last in the diary, was addressed to her, like a letter…

_Buffy,_

_There is much that I need to tell you that I will never have the opportunity to. Hence, I am writing it down._

_If you are reading this and I am not dead, then you are being incredibly nosy, and should stop immediately. Otherwise – well, I fear my time is limited, so I'll get right to what I want to say, and I ask that if ever you have listened to me, you do so now._

_We have both changed a great deal over the years. Perhaps that is an understatement. At any rate, despite our recent disagreement, I am proud of how much you have changed, how much you have grown and achieved. Yet it also worries me. The developments have not been all for the good, in either of us. In my case it is much too late for me to change course again, although I dearly wish I could. Your case is different…_

* * *

When Buffy finished, she sat, she didn't know for how long, thinking about what she had read. She continued to hold the book in her lap, not wanting to let go of it.

Suddenly, she heard a scream.

* * *

The first thing Xander thought when the demon blundered into the back yard was that it was a dinosaur – a strange mash-up of an eight-foot tall veloceraptor, with spikes and horns covering its face and running down its back to the end of its lethal stegosaurus tail. And it had an extra set of equally deadly clawed arms. Xander would have thought that it was kind of cool, but then it charged at him and Anya.

Xander and Anya ran to opposite sides of the yard as the demon plowed into the porch. Recovering faster than it took to change its momentum, the demon turned its attention to each of its prey before seeming to decide that the girl was the easier target. Anya dodged as it swung its claws at her.

The monster was taken off-guard when Xander struck it across the back of its spiny head with a large fallen branch. It spun around to face its attacker, and the non-spiky side of its tail knocked Anya off her feet and slammed into Xander, sending him flying across the yard and into the trunk of the tree that stood next to the porch, just as Willow and Dawn ran out of the house to see what was going on.

Acting impulsively, Willow set off a small explosion of energy near the demon. She succeeded in alarming it, but the demon responded by charging at the two girls. It slashed Willow across the arm, sending her sprawling on her side, and towered over Dawn, mouth opened wide, double rows of teeth gleaming in the porchlight.

Dawn screamed.

_…When you first arrived in Sunnydale, you were far from what an ideal Slayer is supposed to be, as I'm sure I told you often enough. You were filled with so much more life and care for others than one would expect. At first I thought those qualities, particularly your attachment to your friends and family, were a mere peculiarity, which, though admirable, was mainly inconvenient. Of course, like so many other things, I was wrong about that…_

The demon lowered its head towards Dawn.

Suddenly, it reared back, howling in pain. It staggered backwards, revealing Buffy standing behind it, battle-axe in one hand, bloodied sword in the other. The demon stumbled, crashing through the railing and onto the ground. Buffy leapt after it, swinging at it with both weapons. She didn't pay attention to its thrashing tail until it had knocked her feet out from under her, and she was flat on her back, the demon snarling over her.

_…You have a great capacity, Buffy, for caring, and for friendship, and for love. That has given you relationships that are of more benefit to you than any amount of training or study could be to any Slayer. That has always been your strength…_

As Buffy shook the stars from before her eyes, she saw that the demon had turned its attention away from her, and was snapping at another figure.

Anya was swinging a branch at the beast with all her strength, while trying to keep out of the way of its teeth, claws and tail. The demon threatened her more than she threatened it, but Anya didn't drop the branch or run away.

Buffy sprang to her feet and attacked the monster again, giving Anya a chance to retreat. The demon's four arms made it difficult for Buffy to get in a clear hit to its body, and its swinging tail forced her to keep jumping away from it. She simply couldn't deal with all of the demon at the same time.

At the edge of her vision, Buffy saw Xander getting to his feet, dismay clear on his face as he watched the ongoing battle.

"Xander!" she called, and tossed the axe to him, which he caught deftly. "This thing would be easier to kill if I only had to worry about one end!"

Xander nodded.

He approached the demon from behind, carefully staying out of its line of sight, while Buffy kept it occupied. Xander raised the axe above his head and brought it down in a swift, smooth arc, separating the demon from its tail with a sickening  _thunk_.

The demon screeched in agony. It reeled around to strike at Xander, but without its tail it became unbalanced, and toppled over onto its back. Buffy sprang at it, sword raised. Just as she was about to plunge her weapon into the demon's gut, she was caught on the knee by one of its flailing claws. She staggered away from the beast, clutching her bleeding knee and grimacing in pain.

Willow's voice sounded from the porch. "Subsisto totus tractus!"

As if it was an image from a video and someone had pressed the "pause" button, the demon froze.

Buffy limped toward the demon, raised her sword, and drove it through the demon's throat. It shuddered as the spell was broken, then went limp.

Buffy stood still for a long moment, catching her breath, before turning towards the house to face her friends. No one spoke, or even moved.

… _You may be thinking that I'm telling you nothing you don't already know, and if that is the case I have nothing to worry about. You will certainly be stronger than any evil you have to face. However, I fear that the burden of your duty has finally led you to cut yourself off from those around you. Perhaps it is because I currently view things through my own isolation that I feel this way. In any case, please don't do as I did and force yourself to go through this ordeal alone. I couldn't bear to see that…_

Finally, Dawn stepped forward, walking slowly until she stood in front of Buffy. Their eyes met, and the two sisters threw their arms around each other.

Xander and Anya helped Willow to her feet. The three of them turned to the sisters, who were now approaching the porch.

"Hey," Buffy said softly.

Her friends nodded in acknowledgement, understanding the apologetic look in her eyes.

"Your arm –" Buffy gestured towards Willow's wound. "Are you going to be okay?"

Willow gave a half-hearted smile and nodded. "It's nothing I can't heal myself. I'll live."

Her statement hung in the air. An uncomfortable silence stretched out before Xander spoke.

"So, uh, what do we do with that thing?"

The five of them turned towards the demon's corpse.

"Bury it, I guess," Buffy said non-committally. "What is it, anyways?"

Xander shrugged. "Never found out."

"Well, what's it after? I mean, why'd it come  _here_?" Buffy looked around at her friends, but none of them had the answer. They just shrugged and shook their heads. Again, the silence weighed heavily among them.

_…And I will see what happens, no matter what. As you know full well, death does not mean one disappears forever…_

"Well, we'll deal with it in the morning," Buffy sighed. "We're safe now. That's all that matters."

"No," Dawn said, in a near-whisper. Buffy turned to face her. "We're not. We're never safe anymore."

Her sister gazed at her sympathetically, and spoke in a comforting tone. "It's okay Dawn. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but we'll be okay."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I do."

"Your lying." It wasn't an accusation, but a statement, filled with hurt and disappointment.

Buffy blinked and gave Dawn a weak smile. "Maybe I am." The look in her eyes pleaded with her sister to believe her anyways.

"Don't. Please."

What there was of a smile quickly faded from Buffy's face. Her eyes dropped to the ground. "It's only going to get harder, Dawn," she said apologetically, then paused, as if remembering something. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and distant. "Heroes are never as strong as they're supposed to be. We can't always tell who it is we're supposed to be fighting. And we lose far too many battles. Our friends die." She paused briefly, taking a shuddering breath. "And at the end of the day, there is no happy ending waiting for us." Her brow furrowed. "But… that's not the important thing…" She looked up at Dawn, her eyes glistening and sincere. "What matters is that you have people who love you and believe in you so much that you forget all that, so much that you start to think that you can do anything, no matter how bad things are. And then you really can." Buffy looked around at her friends. "You guys…" Her eyes brimmed with tears. "You guys mean everything to me." She sniffed and tried to blink back her tears, but couldn't. "I don't want to lose anyone else..."

Xander and Willow went to Buffy and held her as she cried, Anya and Dawn standing nearby.

When they broke apart, Buffy was still sniffling. She took a deep breath. "I  _swear_ , we are going to beat this thing. We're going to win. And we're going to be together when we do."

None of them could help but smile at Buffy's pronouncement, heartened despite their sadness.

Dawn appeared pensive. "For now," she said carefully, and kindly, "why don't we focus on making it through tomorrow?" The friends turned towards the younger girl. "I think that's probably what Giles would say."

_…This is only goodbye for now. I will always be watching over you._

Buffy smiled sadly at her sister. "That sounds about right."

The five of them went back into the house together.

_Yours,  
Giles_

* * *

_Yes, it's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after._

_Liar_

 

THE END

 


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